Tróiades

But what limbs does the cliff face leave us?

Bones unpieced

undid themselves in the fall

his body’s illustrious marks

the face the features of a noble father

everything the thud on the deep

earth confused

in the tumble his neck snapped

his open head exhaled

his brain

 a body

lying there

shapeless

In this too

just like his father


[S 1110]

In this service as herald it would be better

to be a man without compassion

more used to shamelessness

unlike me

The closeness of death

fells the best words


[T 786. S 575]

Child, it is not one and the same, seeing and living 

In one nothing

in the other at least hope


[T 630]

Shaking shaking

legs
Spread this trail of blood

to the grim

last days of life


[T 1330]

At least I saved you the trouble

of crossing the scamander’s flow

washed the corpse

cleaned the wounds



Now let me dig his grave

and it’s over for us

job done

catch the boat home soon


[T 1155]

Get up you wretch

lift your head

your neck off the ground

There’s no more kingdom or queen

Do not try gybing your bows

against the luck of the waves


[T 98]

No law spares the conquered

or overrules his punishment


and now you say it’d be inauspicious

to sacrifice the virgins?


[S 333, 331]

When they invaded our shores
 they died without missing
 the earth and hearth of the fatherland Whoever war annihilated
 never saw his children never received last rites and now lies exposed on foreign land feeding birds of prey The great strategist
 for what he hates most 
kills what he loves most At home woe doesn't change
 for those who stay
 Wife without husband
 orphaned of her son 
at home 
gave birth for nothing 
In the grave no one
 to sacrifice their blood for this land
[T 370]

He died he did

and better off

than me alive



Bloody luck



Death’s always first

to give up on buggers like me


[S 954]

He robbed me of evil’s greatest fruit

fearing nothing

all this took away my joy

and the horror still has a way in



The worst is the fear

with nothing to hope for


[S 420]

Why bother calling the gods

if they never listen?

Let’s run under the snipers

today the most beautiful thing

is dying in a napalmed country


The blacked-out sun in the smog

and no flame can singe 

victory’s thieving fingers 



Hobble on your stumps

salute your barrel-bombed city

as best you can


[T 1280, 1275. S 17]

All tears of grief will be my grief


[S 1060]

An angel

looks and tries to get away from it

plundered openmouthed

and wide-winged



he faces the past
our chain of events

like an unfinished catastrophe

ruin after ruin

at his feet



He’d rather land

remember the dead

reassemble the fragments

but from heaven there is

a gale blowing

that binds his wings

and he can no longer close them

dragged towards the future

dragged backwards

and staring at the heap of ruins

he reaches heaven


[W 9]

There is no trench for these tears


[S 812]

Never being born is like death

Before the afflictions of life

better to die

without pain

or the aesthetics of evil



Happy be he who dies in war

and sees everything with him

consume itself


[T 636]

Better to have more voice in our arms hands hair feet so that in unison every thing grabs hold of your knees spilling all speech


[H 835]

Bury the body

in a tomb

for he has won

his funeral garlands



For the dead I think

it doesn’t matter much

if he received funeral rites



It’s all vanity of vanities

ostentation for the living


[T 1245]

These ones think death makes up for the ships’ delay Those are glad to see an enemy fall The fickle majority detests all crime and looks on


[S 1126]

Mother of an empty city

teardrop by teardrop

the dead however forget their pain


[T 603]

They can threaten us with flame wounds arts of torture hunger thirst diverse plagues iron plunged into the burnt guts whips lightless prison and whatever else the victor dares in his dreadful fury


[S 582]

The man who piles up cities

ships tombs shrines for the dead

all abandoned

and in the end buries himself too


[T 95]

Our gift to you



ripping our hair out

beating our breasts



that’s left over


[T 792]

Wandering over the sea lacerated his skin


[H 782]

I don't take with me what men
bring

hope

I don’t kid myself
we’re doing good

It would be sweet to believe


[T 681]

Behold the child killed

out of fear one day

by the Argives


[T 1190]